revivalproject | (open) weapon-crafting 101

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(open) weapon-crafting 101

WHO: Boba Fett and you!
WHERE: Around Temba
WHAT: Boba decides the first thing he needs on a new planet is a weapon. Naturally.
WHEN: Early May, but after Sports Day
WARNINGS: Brief mention of child slavery

i. required materials

To say it had been a difficult first day on Agra-10 for Boba would be a massive, massive understatement. He’d spent most of it bouncing between confusion and panic, chased by his fears of what might be waiting for him if he should return to Tatooine too late and, at one point, literally chased by an angry cyborg clone through the empty Temba streets. Somehow, a day that had started with him being hunted for sport and almost enslaved on Tatooine had gotten worse. At least when he was being chased in Mos Eisley, he had an idea of why.

Now, on his second day, he’s decided that things are going to be different. He’s done panicking; now he’s going to come up with a plan. First things first: he needs a weapon.

He spends most of the first part of the day combing through the city, searching for the materials he needs. He thinks a spear would be a good start; he knows how to use one for both self-defense and fishing, the latter of which he needs to pay Tommy back for the meal on his first day. He makes for an odd sight as he searches for the necessary components; a short-statured figure in a blue cadet’s uniform, face hidden under a silver-and-blue Mandalorian battle helmet, picking through junk and debris. Unlike his first day, he won’t run or hide if he sees another person approaching—though he will stop and watch them, the black visor of his helmet turning to track them as he weighs whether or not they might be a threat.

ii. steps 1-6

By the time Boba finds everything he needs for a spear, it’s already past noon. He kneels in the shadow of an abandoned storefront, taking in his finds. A broken mop handle, a clump of electrical wiring, and a few sharp fragments of scrap metal—it’s not much, but it should be enough for what he needs. He spends the next while putting it all together: using one of the pieces of scrap metal to score a notch into one end of the wooden mop handle, inserting another piece of scrap to be the spearhead, and tying it all together with frayed bits of electrical wire. The result is an ugly, haphazard thing that will probably fall apart the second he tries to puncture anything firmer than flesh—but it’s better than nothing.

Grimy and exhausted, Boba examines his new weapon with grim acceptance. He knows it’s nothing amazing. He also knows that with the sun going down, he probably won’t be catching any fish today. Maybe he can go back to Tommy’s diner? It feels wrong, taking another meal when he can’t even repay the man for what he’d eaten yesterday, but… he’s hungry. And at the very least, he can think about catching something tomorrow.

He stands and, after a quick glance at his communicator to figure out where he is, begins to walk in that direction, still holding his improvised spear in one hand.

{OOC: Feel free to encounter Boba either at the diner or on his way there!}

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After having a bounty hunter seeking her out, being a little wary after being told that someone here is looking for her seems entirely reasonable, especially considering whom it was to inform her.

Needless to say, Omega is curious, but she hasn't yet gotten around to reaching out to set up a meeting. She's been thinking about it though.

She's doing so right now at the diner, over a bowl of soup, dunking a piece of bread into it. The girl hasn't bothered to unsling her energy bow from her back, but she's used to having it there in its folded position.

Settled on the table beside her is a mothcat, a green-furred feline with strange, feathery antennae and fanned out wings with a speckled design. This one's small and a bit on the pudgy side, and currently looks to be napping.

It's dark by the time Boba reaches the diner. By now, most of the guilt Boba had felt earlier about taking another unearned meal has been swallowed up by hunger and fatigue. Right now, all he wants to do is sit down and eat something; not being able to pay for it just yet is a problem for future-him.

There's only one other person inside right now, though Boba is initially too focused on getting something to eat to pay them much mind. It's only after he orders his own soup and bread that his gaze wanders to the only other person inside the diner—

—and their pet. Honestly, it's what grabs Boba's attention first: the fuzzy, winged creature sleeping on the table to the stranger's side, intriguing in its alienness. It's only after a few moments of observation that his attention turns to the stranger herself—and that he feels jolt upon realizing that he's seen that blonde hair once before, in the directory shortly after his arrival.

He's not hunting her. If he were, he'd be much more subtle in his approach. As it stands now, he walks up, only slightly tense, and speaks as plainly as anything:

"Hi. Are you Omega?"

The girl absently strokes the lazy mothcat's fur as she chews on her soaked bread. She glances over when she hears the other person's approach; she'd been aware someone else had come but that's not all unusual considering it's the diner.

Omega blinks at the person, the helmet putting her on guard instantly. But the voice...she squints at the t-visor.

"Who's asking..?" she says cautiously, more out of uncertainty for what this other kid could want from her than that he had any designs to attack. Except that he does have a weapon. Her eyes flick to it briefly. All she has in hand is a piece of bread, and Tumble isn't the best of her mothcat squad.

Wow. It's weird seeing her face in-person. Boba has never had much face-to-face interaction with other cloned children and it's even weirder because Omega's face isn't an exact match. She looks like she could be his sister and, as someone who grew up hearing stories about how the rest of his biological—and adoptive—family was massacred, Boba can't help but find it a little uncanny.

Unnerved as he is, it takes a few seconds for Boba to realize that he probably doesn't cut the friendliest figure right now. He's wearing a Mandalorian battle helmet and holding a spear; he'd be wary, too, if someone approached him like this.

"Uh... My name's Boba?" he says after a moment. He wonders if she's heard of him. With his free hand, he lifts his helmet up to expose his face. "I'm a clone—like you, I think."

Not exactly like her, obviously—but if there's another explanation for her looking the way she does, he can't think of it.

Given her lack of reaction, the name doesn't seem to strike her as familiar. It's the latter that does, especially once Boba reveals his face. She's seen it plenty of times back in Tipoca City, not that she's ever engaged with the cadets.

"I'm Omega," the girl finally confirms, some of her wariness easing off in favor of a smile. She sets the bread down so she can turn towards him. "It's nice to meet you, Boba."

Most clones tended to ignore her, so she's happy to actually be acknowledged by one. Perhaps because of their whole situation here?

"Have you been finding things all right, here? As well as anyone can, anyway."

She doesn't seem to recognize him—that's usually a good thing.

"I guess," he says with a shrug. No one has truly tried to harm or kill him since he got here, which makes it technically less hostile than most of the planet's he's been to previously. His main problem with it is that he isn't allowed to leave. "I haven't been here very long."

He's not so interested in talking about the planet, anyway. He's more curious about Omega herself and the circumstances behind her... well... existence.

"Can I ask you something?" he broaches. Somehow, just coming out and asking her why her face is like that strikes even Boba as a little tactless.

"I didn't think so. But most of the people here are nice and helpful, at least."

Omega tries to offer him some reassurance with her smile. She nudges the stool beside her with a foot, an open invitation if the boy wants to sit.

Her expression is open, innocent and curious as Boba asks his question, a question to lead into another question. Clearly she's already accepted him as someone to trust, or at least not someone who might cause her trouble.

"Sure," she nods, looking at him expectantly.

He hesitates for only a moment before taking a seat beside her. Maybe he’d be a little warier around an adult, but other kids usually aren’t so bad. She only looks a few years older than him anyway.

Once he has the go-ahead to proceed, he asks his question: “Why do you look so different?”

It’s blunt, but not malicious. If anything, the fact that she does look different inclines him to be a little friendlier than he’d be with most of his father’s other clones. At least with her, he doesn’t have to think about whom she’ll grow up to serve—or whom she’ll grow up to look like.

Wow. The point-blank question definitely catches her off guard. Omega blinks, looking a little confused, perhaps unsure how to answer.

"I don't know," she admits. "This is how I've always been."

She tilts her head at Boba. "Why do you ask?"

Boba blinks back, equally surprised by her response—or lack thereof.

“Well… you’re a clone, right?” he broaches, feeling a bit bewildered that he has to explain it at all. “And so am I. But we only look kind of alike.” A pause, and then, in case she hasn’t figured it out: “That’s weird.”

Surely she couldn’t have missed that she’s the odd one out amidst all the other clones. Could she?

“I mean… Did they make you like this on purpose? Or was it an accident?”

"Yes...?" The line of questioning makes it seem like she shouldn't be. But Boba's not denying that she is like him, in that sense anyway. "Is it though? ...well no, I guess you have a point. I wasn't created to be a soldier like the rest of you were." Omega's still assuming he's a cadet, after all.

"I don't know though. If I have a purpose, that is. I've mostly been Nala Se's assistant once I was old enough."

Honestly, Boba is so baffled by her answer that he hardly notices that she's mistaking him for a cadet. She wasn't created to be a soldier? How could that be? The entire reason the Kaminoans had needed his father's DNA in the first place was so they could create an army. Why would they make a clone who not only looked different, but also didn't even share the same purpose as the rest of them?

"I don't get it," Boba mumbles, brow furrowed. "Why would they use my father's DNA just to make Nala Se an assistant?" There must be another reason. Unless... "You are a clone of Jango Fett, aren't you?"

It seems unlikely that she isn't, but then, none of what she's said sounds very likely in the first place.

The turn of this conversation's certainly not something Omega's expected, and the fact that she isn't able to provide Boba the answers he's apparently looking for make her feel like she's disappointing him, somehow. It's also frustrating, like he knows something she doesn't.

"Your father's..?" She latches onto that phrase. No clone's ever referred to the originator of their DNA as 'father' so far as she knows. "That's the only DNA sample that the Kaminoans have been making use of for all this time," she admits with a frown.

"I'm a clone like you, but no one's ever told me much about why I'm different. I just know that my brothers are too. But they were genetically altered when they were young, part of an experimental unit. So most of them look a lot different now than Regs - that's what they'd call the regular clones."

It sounds like the Kaminoans were doing all sorts of experiments with the clones that Boba hadn't known about. If Omega's right, then there's a whole unit of clones a little bit like her—made from his father's DNA but different from the others.

'Kaminoan experimentation' seems like the closest to an answer he's going to get. Boba accepts it with a nod, though, to his own surprise, he doesn't feel much satisfaction in finding it out. If anything, it makes him feel a little unnerved to imagine them experimenting with his father's genetics. He tries to play it off with a shrug.

"Okay. I was just wondering." A pause. "I'm different, too, even though I don't look like it. Jango Fett was my father. They didn't alter my DNA at all."

A fact he evidently takes some pride in given the way he says it.

Omega wouldn't correct him on that; so far as she's concerned, she's always been a part of the 'Bad Batch.' The defects, so far as things went from the standard model. She hasn't yet been told otherwise.

The girl blinks at him, brightening a little. Someone else who was different. Just...not in the way that her squad is. "Really? How old are you?" she asks, all at once curious. "I never knew there were any direct clones. So...you're not a cadet, then?"

"I'm eleven now," he says. "And no, I'm not a cadet. I haven't even been on Kamino since, um..." Well. Since he'd tried to go back after his dad died and Taun We had called the Jedi on him. Boba suffices with, "In a while."

Boba thinks it's a little odd that she'd asked about his age. Could she be like him in that regard as well? "What about you? Did they make you grow up faster like the others? Or do you age normally?"

Her eyes widen at that. "My brothers and I left Kamino too, if pretty recently. Things have changed there now that the Empire's taken over the Republic. I didn't think it was a good idea to stay..."

But things are better because she's with them- or at least she was. Still, she doesn't think staying would have made anything better for them. Omega smiles a little.

"I'm about fourteen now. Dustin helped me calculate when my birthday will be, here, so I'll be fifteen in a few months."

"The Empire?" If the Republic has been taken over by anything, it's news to him. Even on Tatooine, he thinks he would've heard of something as momentous as that. "What do you mean?"

Omega blinks. "Oh... You must be from...before? Is the war still going on?"

Time differences are still such a strange concept to her. Even though she knows Echo's from some point ahead of her, it hasn't seemed so far as to be disruptive.

"When the Clone Wars ended, the Republic became known as the Galactic Empire."

"'From before?'" His expression grows more confused as she keeps talking. Then, something seems to click and he grimaces. "Is this more... time stuff?"

He knows this place has some kind of dysfunctional relationship with time. That's how they can be here for so long and then return home with no memory of it nor time having passed—allegedly, anyway. Boba prefers not to think about it too much precisely because it sounds so impossible. It makes him feel like he's being told a lie and worse, he wants to believe it.

But now here's someone else telling him that she's from after the war—and Boba realizes, it makes some amount of sense. After all, how else could she be older than him? He was the first clone of his father ever made.

"So you're from the future?" His tone is uncertain. Maybe her aging has been accelerated like the rest of the clones and she's lying, but why would she do that? "Does that mean the Republic won?"

A nod. "Yeah, more time stuff," Omega confirms, with a faint twist of her own lips. As commonplace as it is here, she doubts she'll ever get used to it. Who possibly can?

"I guess you can say that. I'm not sure when you're from to really know otherwise. "The Republic won, and the Supreme Chancellor became Emperor."

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(open) weapon-crafting 101

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